


Dad’s Scarf

by nadia5803



Series: nadia’s king lear au [1]
Category: King Lear - Shakespeare
Genre: AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22398742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nadia5803/pseuds/nadia5803
Summary: this is my first work woohoo anyways this is part of my king lear au. i’ll probably just write a ton of one shots. i still dont know how to use this site help
Series: nadia’s king lear au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612093
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Dad’s Scarf

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first work woohoo anyways this is part of my king lear au. i’ll probably just write a ton of one shots. i still dont know how to use this site help

Dad’s scarf.

He wouldn’t stop wearing Dad’s scarf.

It wasn’t fair. Dad slipped the soft, handknitted, balled-up scarf into Edgar’s bloodied hands as his heart burst. Edgar put it on a shelf in Dad’s office, squeezed the patterned yarn between his fungers a final time, and left it beside two tea lights. Brother and Dad. It would be safe, untouched, away from Edgar’s eyes, and he wouldn’t have to think about it ever again. The blood, the wind whipping around him, Dad’s blank eyes.

But seeing the vibrant yarn wrapped around Kent’s neck brought it all back to him. It wasn’t grief that Edgar felt, though.

It was anger.

“Can you put it back?” 

Edgar emerged from his place against the doorway, leaning against the couch where Kent was seated. “Excuse me?” Kent asked, an eyebrow cocked as he glanced up from his phone. Edgar rolled his eyes and forced a taut smile down at Kent. 

“The scarf, please, sir.”

Kent set down his phone and stared at the ceiling, hand pressed against his chin as he furrowed his brows and mimicked deep thought. “No, sorry.” He flashed a great big smile up at a shocked Edgar, and went back to his phone.

“Are you kidding me?” Edgar let out a chuckle, swallowing down the frustration rising up inside him as he clenched his fists and repeated himself. “Are you  kidding  me?”

Silence. Kent continued to scroll through his phone. Edgar bit his lip, reached over, and yanked the phone right out of Kent’s hands. “Put it back, Kent,” he spit out the advisor’s name like he had just bit into a sour lemon, and he watched as Kent rose from his seat, trying to grab the phone at a distance.

“Edgar. Stop this immaturity. I’m not putting it back. He was my best friend. You left it in a dark dusty corner. It’s mine now because  you’re not taking care of it,” Kent muttered as he approached Edgar. 

Edgar stuck his arm up in the air, nearly touching the ceiling with the top of the phone as he glared at Kent. “I don’t like seeing it. Okay? It’s not yours to take. I don’t care about the whole uncle schtick you’re doing anymore. We’re both grown-ups now. He gave it to me. It’s my decision. I do what I want with it. Put it back.”

Kent recoiled, wrapping his hands around the scarf and adjusting it sideways. He straightened up, puffing out his chest anf standing like a toy soldier as he faced Edgar. “I knew your father since high school. He’d want you to wear it out. Since you’re not, I am instead.”

“I don’t give a shit what he would have wanted, Kent, he’s fucking dead. Give me the scarf or I’ll break your stupid phone,” Edgar stammered as he spoke but his expression kept firm as he dangled the phone over Kent’s head. 

Kent’s eyebrows raised in reserved shock for a moment -he’d never heard Edgar swear until then, but he wouldn’t let the surprise show. He kept his stoic little pout on, and stood on the tips of his toes, reaching for the phone with desperate fingers. Edgar kept it just out of reach, drawing his arm back. “Put. It. Back.”

Kent dropped to his feet, a scowml on his face as he shrunk backwards. “You’re acting like a child, Edgar, it’s a bloody scarf. You’re not using it so I am. Simple as that. Look, Edgar, I know it’s touchy for you, but-“

“Touchy?! Fucking touchy? My father died in front of me, Kent, and he gave it to  me.  It’s my decision and mine alone what I get to do with it. I don’t want you parading it around like a fucking catwalk. I don’t care what he would have wanted, that’s bullshit. It’s all bullshit,” Edgar paused, his heart racing as he let out a few shaky breaths, his hand still raised. He released his grip on the phone and let it hit the ground with a devastating smack. “Kent.” 

Kent didn’t look up. He didn’t touch the scarf or acknowledge Edgar. Edgar felt his heart begin to race again, and he raised his volume, sounding harsher as he took a threatening step forward. “Sir Earl of Kent,” he spat, his rage palpable. No response. Edgar waited, the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, before he snatched the scarf off Kent’s neck. He squeezed the yarn once again and breathed a sigh before stepping backwards, tossing it around his neck and clenching the ends in his hands so hard he thought the fabric would split.

Kent stood there like a wounded puppy, his hands folded on his chest as he gazed at Edgar in silence. Edgar loosened his grip on the ends, stumbled backwards, and looked to the floor as tears began to sting his eyes. Kent’s mouth dropped open and, for once, his voice didn’t sound as deadpan as usual as he reached out an arm. “Oh, Edgar, dear, I’m so sor-“

“Just stop.”

Kent pulled his hand away. Edgar turned his back on the advisor, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I hate you. You’ve ruined my life.” 

Kent opened his mouth to speak, but was shut up by the soundless thud of the scarf on the floor. Edgar had disappeared back into the hall. 

Kent bent over at the knee, picked up the dirtied scarf, folded it, and set it on the couch.

The sudden silence was palpable.


End file.
